every day I walk into school,
battered, beaten, broken, bruised,
they can't see the dark shadows beneath my eyes?
they can't see I'm always on the edge of crying?
every day I walk into school,
battered, beaten, broken, bruised,
they can't see the semicolon on my wrist?
they can't see me looking like this?
every day I walk into school,
battered, beaten, broken, bruised,
they can't see past my weak, pathetic walls?
they can't hear my silent calls?
YOU ARE READING
Pulvis et Umbra
Poetrywe write our stories on the silver black clear canvasses of our lives these are my stories i build them so you can relate and perhaps we won't be so alone *** "I really love these poems. They help me find myself in worlds where there is no one lef...
